


This Will Make You Love Again

by Piratx



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Crypto Centric, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Soulmates, Secret Identity, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Skips, Triggers, it gets dark guys just be careful reading this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-25 02:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21348751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piratx/pseuds/Piratx
Summary: She had meant everything to him.Her smile rivaled the sun, her laughter as smooth as water, her skin softer than silk. Her eyes as clear as a cloudless sky.Until she wasn’t.The last few pictures of her were on the news and not on his cell phone or on his walls at home.She had been his soulmate, who he saw as the little sister he never had, and she had felt the same. It was supposed to be them against the world. Forever Family.And then he methim.Tae struggles with depression and getting back onto his feet, the pain of losing his sister — and soulmate — hitting him hard and making him rethink his life choices. Saying goodbye to his mother and his identity, Tae Joon Park steps back out into the world to start anew, but with a purpose. Joining the games brings a few challenges, and Elliot Witt wasn’t one he expected to face.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon & Mila Alexander, Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	This Will Make You Love Again

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I planned on this being a one shot, but as soon as I saw I hit 16k words and I was only halfway(?) through it, I just,,, I couldn’t. I’m still writing it and I don’t even know if I’m halfway through, I still have sooooo much to write!! 
> 
> This first chapter is all Crypto, only mentions of Mirage where appropriate. Please keep in mind that this is a Crypto-Centric fic, and the soulmate elements is shown in the very beginning of this, and will show up again once Elliot is properly introduced into the fic. 
> 
> Also important to keep in mind, is that this is dark in some places. The first chapter will be darker than the second(I think?? I haven’t written the second part yet so I’m not sure), but I just needed to make sure that you knew what you were gonna read. It includes suicidal thoughts, suicidal tendencies, dark thoughts yada yada yada. (Please read the tags closely!!!!) There is also a very graphic use of blood in a certain scene in this chapter, so if you ain’t good with blood, skip the part where Tae and Mila are looking at the computer to the next break in the chapter. 
> 
> As for the second chapter, that’s when the romance starts since Crypto is actually introduced to the Crew(Tm). I’m not sure if I plan on adding smut, I probably won’t(I want this to be sad shit (:>), I’ll only add the beginnings of their relationship and then explore that aspect in a different fic. 
> 
> Anyways I talk to much and I will let you get into the chapter.
> 
> I’m sorry in advance and I hope you cry at least once during this chapter.

__

_“Let’s suppose that you were able every night to dream any dream you wanted to dream… And you would, naturally, as you began on this adventure of dreams, you would fulfill all your wishes. You would have every kind of pleasure you could conceive. And after several nights you would say ‘Well that was pretty great. But now let’s have a surprise, let’s have a dream which isn’t under control, where something is gonna happen to me that I don’t know what it's gonna be’. Then you would get more and more adventurous and you would make further- and further-out gambles what you would dream. And finally, you would dream where you are now.” - Alan Watts_

* * *

_Tip-tap._

_Tip-tap._

_Tip-tap._

The rain lightly hit the glass window before collecting and sliding down the surface smoothly, dropping to the wet floors of the ally.

The room was dark, cold, and deathly silent. There was no other illumination other than the moon and the dangy street light from outside the window, coming in and spilling over the tiled floor, never reaching the occupant in the room. 

The man sat huddled, legs to chest, arms wrapped around and holding them close to himself, as if it would chase the chill permeating the air. He stared at the wall, barely blinking, barely breathing. Barely alive.

Barely existing.

His body felt numb, pain lingering at the edges, frozen fingertips and blue tinged ears. He could see his own breath in the room, before it faded away and disappeared.

Like a distant memory.

_ Just like her. _

The voice sent a jolt of pain through his heart, a freezing air overtaking his figure as his eyes started to water from the lack of blinking. They felt dry. 

Outside the little room, the universe continued to move on and on, without the man shrouded by darkness and self-loathing. Without him contributing to the society who had only ever wronged him. Without the girl in short black shorts and red, soft flowing hair. 

Without the bright, clear, green eyes who only ever believed for an even brighter future together, away from everyone who had done them wrong.

The rain continued to hit the windowpane, oblivious to the silent plea for help contained in the shadows, away from the world, quietly building up wall after wall until he was no longer the man he used to be.

Tae Joon Park, was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Perhaps he remembers correctly.

Perhaps he doesn't. He isn’t so sure anymore.

It’s like a haze settled around his brain, refusing to let up even as he pleaded to himself to recall the better times. The times before he was running, never stopping for a break, always looking over his shoulder, suspicious of anyone who looked his way for more than a second. 

He wanted to recall his days of running through the streets of Suotamo, his days in squalor with a younger brunette, always grabbing him by the hand as they hid from the world that had forced them into that lifestyle. Of playing ball with the other kids who would smile and wave their way before their mothers forced them to ignore the dirty children that lived in the alley, saying they were ridden with disease and ate rats off the street.

Maybe his life hadn’t been fair back then, but it was a paradise to what he lived through right now. At least back then he had company of family that loved him unconditionally, even if that came from a young, ragged little girl, and later a kind and warm woman with honey as eyes. 

Perhaps he doesn’t really remember the old days that well because he spent them blind, everything in his sight fuzzy and barely there before he got his first pair of glasses at the age of ten. It had been a birthday present from Mystic, her smile and kind gaze warming him to the brim as he finally saw them sharp for the first time. He remembers his gaze landing on Mila after, her long knotted hair a mess and mud smeared cheeks, smiling at him as if her entire world was before her. 

He remembers crying from the overwhelming joy at finally seeing - truly seeing - everything for the first time. He also remembers thinking his glasses were a gift from the gods.

And just like his eyesight from the tears, everything after is blurry. Or perhaps he refuses to remember.

Tae had had everything, and at some point, it had no longer been enough.

If only he stayed content with what they had, the both of them. They could both be alive, and be experiencing a different life. The both of them. Not just Tae, as he stared at himself in the foggy mirror of his bathroom after his hot shower, beads of water running down his hair and to his chin, where they would drip and fall into the sink. 

It was true that what happened that day changed his life completely, even if for the worst, but it ended another life. Their lives were supposed to change together, and for the better. 

But both of them were dead, and all that stayed behind was a ghost - a shell - of who he once used to be. The mirth was gone from his eyes, his chin sporting a six o’clock shadow, and the mark on his wrist gone. 

The mark on his wrist that had meant his whole world.

Maybe that's why his fist flew through the air, smashing against the mirror before him, cracking and bleeding. As if it were crying for him.

The red liquid seeped through the cracks of the mirror and his fingers, dripping and falling to collect with the water still falling from his chin, and painting the white sink a soft red before it made a trail and went down the drain. 

He couldn't cry anymore, and that’s what probably scared him. More than anything.

Nothing was stopping him from taking one of the broken pieces of the glass mirror and slicing his wrist open. Nothing was stopping him from smashing his forehead into what was left of the mirror. 

Except, there was. It was sitting alone on the only surface in his living room-slash-bedroom. A picture that had been placed facing down against the oak, so his own eyes couldn't be reminded of the life he lost. A life that was no longer waiting for him, because he was all alone. Truly. There was no undo button, no backwards or delete key, to erase what had happened, to erase what had become of him. 

There was still a gun waiting in the bedside table the picture had been placed upon but he had forced himself to promise, not to himself, but to her that it wouldn’t be used against him, but against the people who had tortured her. The nasty people who had rudely torn her away from her family and from her life. Tore her away from the little flat she had shared with him, in the same town they grew up in. 

It hurt so bad to the point it didn’t hurt anymore. He was too numb to it now, so he never knows when too much is too much, because he knows he would continue pushing anyways. Maybe he would continue even if he had felt the pain, for he will not rest until all of the people who harmed them are laying at his feet, lifeless.

Bringing his bloodied hand up to his other wrist, he rubbed the area that was now empty, bared of the symbol that had attached him to another human being in such a big an empty universe. 

Despite the heat still circulating the room, and having just got out of a scorching shower, he felt freezing to the touch.

It kinda hurt. 

Just like his heart every time he glanced down at his wrist and saw nothing there. He had gotten so used to seeing it —the mark — as he always traced the light thin lines whenever he had nothing else to do.

He would trace it when fixing up a program, or when he was done making a drone for the Games, or when he solved his rubix cube once more. It had just… always been there. He didn’t appreciate it as much as he should have; he never thought it would be ripped away from him, the little symbol wiped from his skin as if it were chalk on an easel. Perhaps he just thought it would always be there, no matter what happened. That it would always be his saving grace whenever his mind would delve into the darkness and get lost in it. 

And now he was as bare as the day he was born. 

The only marks that littered his skin were the few faint moles on his face and the scars he had gotten when he wasn’t careful with a motherboard, or a screwdriver digging into his skin harshly from moving his wrist the wrong way. 

It most definitely hurt.

So when he looked up into the fucked up mirror and saw the empty shell of Tae Joon Park, a complete stranger that was undeserving of any name, he felt nothing, but the pain of his plain, smooth wrist.

* * *

The first time he had seen the bloodsport games was when he turned 18. Sure, he had heard of the games, but he had never really watched them.

They were some nameless faces to Tae back then. Back when he was still Tae. They were none of the legends that were playing now, and it was played differently. Maybe it hadn’t even been the Apex Games, just another bloodsport that had grabbed the attention of the general public at the time. 

It had been broadcasted, a woman getting shot in the throat and blood splattered everywhere, making his stomach twist at the sight, as she laid there in her own blood. 

Mila had just winced and let out a low whistle before she giggled, a quick “guess she isn't getting back up from that any time soon” passing her lips before she followed Mystik’s son up to his room to play a video game he had just gotten for his birthday. He himself had been cooking dinner when he had turned around and leaned against the counter, watching as Mystik herself yelled at the screen as a man got completely obliterated by a knife against his chest, blood dripping from the blade as he stumbled back in an attempt to compose himself to fight back. It was obvious that he was a goner.

Back then he didn’t understand why Mystik liked watching that kind of stuff so much. It was gory and just overall unpleasant to watch, especially if it was idiot against idiot. That was mostly why he avoid watching such things in the first place. He also didn’t want Mila to be watching such nasty stuff, though he was sure that she was more used to seeing it than himself, as she was always watching stupid things on their bother’s television. That kid was a little knocked in the head if you asked him, though he was still likable, as he was a sweet kid. No doubt that he was Mystik’s son.  
When he had turned back to cooking, he could hear a toe-curling scream come from the tv, as his foster mother laughed and mocked the man’s idiocy. 

Fast forward a few years, and he was working with a group called the Syndicate, who had reached out to both him and Mila to help them with the creation of the Games, in the sense of drones so they could broadcast the footage that was caught. It had seemed like good money back at the time, good money that they had both needed. They were both old enough where feeding off from Mystik was selfish, and they liked to be self sufficient and reliant. Being independent tasted better when they were on the right foot.

They had told them that they were creating a sport called the Apex Games, something that would be a big hit and would earn them good cash if they went along with it - which Mila had excitedly accepted. ‘A little extra cash for some shots’, she reasoned, when Tae had been too hesitant to just accept the offer. 

He didn’t want to be associated in the making of a bloodsport, it just didn’t feel right with him, but he saw the way Mila’s eyes had lit up at the proposition for more cash so of course he accepted. And besides, it couldn’t be that hard. They both specialized in technology, the hard and hot stuff, so it would be some easy cash. 

If only he knew what would end up happening. If he knew that the same people that promised him a better life were the same people who would turn his entire world upside down. No matter how happy it would make Mila, he would have never accepted it. Because a pissed off Mila was better than no Mila at all.

So they accepted, and worked hard to make a software for the drones that were being asked of them, before the season premiere of the the games were scheduled to be filmed. 

Tae had worked hard day and night to develope a software that was durable, while Mila designed a casing for the drones that the software would be cased in. She wanted something funky and cool, yet cute. She was just bursting with ideas and couldn’t set on a single one that would fit all the requirements that were needed. 

She would sit on the floor surrounded by balled up pieces of paper, empty boxes of ramen and chopsticks littering the rest of the empty space around her. 

Mila looked so happy with her red hair hastily shoved into a messy bun on her head, tongue sticking out as she slowly drew a finishing line to her design. Her little ‘aha’ as she held up the sketch away from her body, squinting her eyes and taking a good look at it before she would huff disappointedly and ball up another perfectly good drawing, throwing it over her shoulder before she sat there for a moment before she got back to working on a new one. 

His heart ached for that familiarity.

All he could do was curse himself for taking advantage of what he once had.

Back then she had been mostly content with her life. She still mostly smiled, the issue with money not as bad as the last few months that they shared together. 

It had been a life so uncomparable to the one Tae found himself living in now. 

Now it was a different type of ‘barely-getting-by’. It was no longer the money that was on the line, but his life. 

The paranoia was the worst of it. Shrinking when he heard people whispering to each other, as the little hairs on the back of his neck rose to stand on end as he felt a chill envelope his body, bracing to have a bullet shot straight into his head. Or being suspicious of a dark car driving too slow down his street, even if it was due to traffic. The glaring at strangers when they glanced at him a second too long, hoping that if he looked menacing enough, they would leave him alone.

As menacing as a five-foot-nine, one-hundred-and-thirty pound, four eyed, lanky korean man could look.

He just… looked so normal. Too normal. And it showed on the ‘Wanted’ posters that were plastered all over his home. Where they had gotten that picture of him, he didn’t know, but every time he looked at it, it made his stomach drop, and the little voices in his head would yell at him. Telling him how useless he was, and how much he had failed.

_‘How could you have let Mila be taken from right under your nose?’_

_‘This is all your fault.’_

_‘There is a reason your parents dumped you on the streets, useless leech.’_

_‘It should have been you, not her.’_

_‘You can’t do anything right can you?’_

_‘Just go off yourself.’_

_‘The universe would be a better place without you in it.’_

And he believed them. He believed the little voices he heard in his head, because there was no point in continuing to lie to himself. It was his fault that Mila had been taken from him. He was sleeping when she had been abducted and killed for god’s sake! While she was crying and scared, bleeding and screaming, he was sleeping through a calm dreamless sleep. 

He hated himself. More than anything he wanted to go. He wanted to stop living through the pain that was eating away from the inside out, a pain that was so unbearable that most days he couldn’t get out from under his covers. He wouldn’t eat even when his stomach protested loudly for food. He didn’t even like to get up to go to the bathroom and shower. He was a complete mess.

He hated himself. 

Tae hated himself.

Tae hated Tae.

That's probably how he found himself in front of the bathroom mirror, after somehow successfully convincing himself, with a razor and scissors. He stared at himself, at the many cracks on the surface, that reflected the very same cracks in his heart. And every version held pure unadulterated hatred for himself.

Standing there, his hand shaking, he brought up the scissors to his hair, and cut. And he cut. And cut. 

And cut.

The hair he snipped off fell softly through the air into the sink and around his feet, collecting as Tae cut away a part of what had made him. 

He had to reason with himself as to why he was doing it, because ‘Mila liked your hair the way it was’, but Mila wasn’t there anymore. He had to remind himself bitterly that Mila no longer had a say on his appearance.

‘You are doing this for her.’ He reasoned, as he brought the scissors down to rest his hand on the lip of the sink, to observe the mess that he had made of his hair. It wasn't straight, it was choppy more than anything, but he kind of liked it. It wasn't trim and neat like Tae had been, and it looked a little odd with his glasses on his face, as if it didn't go. 

So he brought up the razor, switched it on, and just about went to town on his hair. He tried to keep it straight as he went up and around his ear and down the back of his neck. When it came to the back of his head, he just… let his hand go where it wanted to go. It was his hand in control as he lifted the razor away from his head, and his other hand rose to feel the damage that he had done.

The person that stared back at him in the broken mirror didn’t look like Tae.

It couldn’t be Tae anymore.

He didn’t _want_ to be Tae Joon Park anymore.

And if his eyes watered and a few tears slipped free and ran down his cheeks as he bowed his head, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the sink, there was no one to say. Not even when he crumbled to the floor and pulled himself into a tight ball against the wall, and sobbed the remaining of his heart out.

* * *

Something he does remember clearly was the rainy day he showed up at Mystik’s porch, drenched from the horrible downpour, with a look with what she described as ‘haunted’ in his eyes. 

At first he hadn’t contacted her in fear of mixing her up into the mess, but soon saw it as useless as the police had already taken her in for questioning. He then was scared that, perhaps, she didn’t _want_ to see him, after all the trouble that he had caused for her and her son.

So when she opened the door, and her look of surprise turned into a look of pure happiness and gratitude, it took Tae’s breath away.

She had thrown her arms around him and hugged him close, crying out loudly, her sobs racking her body as she held onto Tae tightly, as if he would disappear if she didn’t. And he might have, which was the scary part.

They stood on the porch, under the grey weeping sky, just hugging each other and crying. It had been months since Mystik had heard from him, and even longer since she had last seen him. 

When she brought them both in after their impromptu crying session and towled them both off, she took a good look at him. She held him by the shoulders at arm's length, her eyes raking over his entire body, taking in just how much her little Tae had changed. 

At one point she had been afraid that he had killed himself in some remote area after Mila had been killed. 

She knew her little Tae; she knew that he wasn’t capable of hurting his little sister, because he had adored her. They had practically been attached at the hip since she had found them on the streets. When she had seen the news of a certain Mila Alexander being abducted and ‘tortured’, her brain couldn’t even comprehend the pain that Little Tae must have been going through. Her own heart was hurting, as she had considered Little Mila as her own as well. As a daughter she wasn’t able to have, but still had anyways.

Mystik’s eyes, still wet from unshed tears, looked sad, but grateful. Grateful that at least her son lived. 

_Her son. _

The son that she gave birth too had already moved out, living his own life at college, while the son she had taken under her wing was running from the police for a crime he did not commit. His face had been plastered on every corner of her town, as it had contained the little house he had grown up in.

But from what she could see, the man that was on the posters wasn’t the man standing in front of her. This man had sharper cheekbones, his eyes sunk more, and his hair was a wild mess. He was leaner, but seemed to have gained a bit of muscle.

_From running._

Tae knew what she was thinking from the look in her eyes, he could see it in the way she looked at him. Actually looked at him. 

She realised her Little Tae was hiding, and was replaced by a much lesser version of himself. A shell, to be more accurate, that was barely keeping itself together.

And for some odd reason, she still smiled that teary smile and cupped his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing soft smooth circles into his skin.

“I’ve missed you, my son.”

* * *

It was brought up on a foggy day, the sun hiding behind the clouds for a quick nap when Mystik brought it up. She was baking to pass the time, just casually talking to Tae to get his mind off the many things she knew were currently floating around in his head nonstop.

He had come to her to tell her about his issue with being recognized. Sure, his new hairstyle was different then how he had been wearing it, but his face was still recognizable, and he hadn’t bothered to get a new pair of glasses. The one’s Mystik had gotten him had too much of a sentimental value to him to just… throw them out. 

When he had asked her, she stood in the middle of the room, contemplating as she tapped her foot on the ground. She looked up at the fridge and mumbled a few things in her language before her eyes lit up, but she was hesitant to say. 

“My friend may be able to help you with that.” When Tae gave her an equally hesitant look, she smiled softly at him. “It’s okay, she knows about you, Tae.”

Park was quiet for a moment, mulling over what she had told him. Did he really want to involve someone else? Could this person be trusted? He wouldn’t have someone else’s life on the line just to save his own ass, that’s not how he operated. Moreover, he didn’t know what meeting with this individual entitled.

“What… would this certain individual help me with, if I did seek such?” His thumbs swirled around one another, his leg bouncing as he waiting for his mother to reply. 

She grabbed a picture off her fridge and sat next to him on the couch, passing him the picture for him to look over.

“She specializes with synthetic skin. Metallic synthetic skin to be precise. She also works with implants and piercings. Those shiny tattoos you’ll see people walking around? That’s her as well. She can make any design on your skin with a metal ink.” Mystik rubbed his lower back as he stared back at a blond woman with her neck and upper chest covered in metal, her entire lower left arm was covered in it as well, as she gave the camera a thumbs up.

“I’ll write down her name and number, if you do decide to do it. Tell her I sent you, and she will be happy to help you in any way she can.” She smiled when Tae glanced at her, before he looked back down at the photo in his hands, “I do warn you though. I have heard that it is quite painful for the first few days.” 

Pain wasn’t an issue. He had already felt the worst of it.

The blank canvas on his wrist was enough.

A few days later, he found himself calling the lady, her chipper voice over the phone introducing herself and offering her services to him. When he spoke and said his mother had given him her info, a barely audible gasp over the phone sounded, and his stomach plummeted. 

Oh god, she was going to call the police on him. On his mother. No. He knew this was a bad idea, he could have found a different way in concealing his identity, he fucked up. Shi-

“Tae? Please come! I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can! I’ll even help with the design, just tell me what you are going for and I’ll get right to it. Your mother told me lots about when you were little!” And she continued and continued, the excitement in her voice very evident. It made his heart get stuck in his throat. 

When he did show up a few days later in her workshop, she hugged him tight to her metallic chest, absolutely squeezing all the air out of him, literally jumping in excitement. She had his face up against her chest, which was big enough to almost effectively suffocate him. 

Then she held him away at arms length, just like Mystik had that day a month ago, inspecting him. She stared at his face, making out his features in the blink of an eye, no doubt already getting to work. 

“I think I got what you want. Let’s go to the back and I’ll get to sketching.” Straight to business.

It only took two to three hours before they came to an agreement on the work they would be doing to his face, multiple sketches of his features and different designs scattered around her work desk.

She had told him that he would have to lose the glasses in order for this to work. He had been very hesitant, as those glasses had meant the world to him, but he could probably part with them if he absolutely needed to. 

This woman - Eli, as she had introduced herself, saying the Elanoir thing was too formal and she saw Tae Joon as a friend she wanted to help - knew about his work, knew what he was especially good at. Drones, software, technology in general. Eli had offered an optical unit implant into his left eye, just outside the iris. She had said it would need to be prepared, and that took some time, up to a week, so they couldn’t do it immediately. She said that the glasses would interrupt the flow of its projection, so he would need to wear contacts or get eye surgery as well. 

He wasn’t ready to delve that deep yet, so he agreed. 

When all was said and done, she made him a folder with a copy of everything, and they set a date for the cosmetic surgery to be done. 

Eli was a busy woman, so she couldn’t take him immediately, as unfortunate and inconvenient as it was, and she also needed to ready the pieces, which was metal work in itself and that took days. So they settled a month and a half from the current day.

It was more than enough time for him to mentally and physically prepare for the world of hurt he would be experiencing. But she guaranteed that it was what he was looking for, and it would look good on him.

Before he left, she gave him a softer hug, whispering softly against his ear, “things will get better. The world has marvelous things in store for you.”

If only he could believe that too.

* * *

Mystik had insisted that she came with him, to wait in the waiting room while he went under. The minimum time the surgery would take was seven hours, so he was very hesitant on letting her come, but she would not take no for an answer.

She kissed his forehead before he went in with Eli, whispering a soft ‘good luck’ as he hesitantly pulled back from her touch.

As he sat back in the cot, Eli needed his confirmation on the design once more before she got down to dressing up for the operation. She seemed a lot more excited than he felt, which was an understatement. 

He forced himself to swallow his heart back down, back to where it belonged.

There was no time for it though, as he had been drugged to numb the pain, the edges of his vision going dark. He was out like a light.

When he rejoined the living, he was practically knocked out by the pain he was feeling all along his jaw and neck, even with the meds Eli had said she would be injecting into his IV. It was as if it was burning, and it made him want to scratch, but before he could, a small cool hand stopped him from doing so.

A quick —blurry — glance to the side told him it was Mystik’s hand, a small relief amongst the hurt.

Tae’s head was filled with cotton, his tongue heavy in his mouth, and his eyes dry. 

Well, eye.

His left eye had been patched so no light would hit it and agitate the fresh wound. It felt so wrong though, as if an eyelash had fallen into his eye and unable to be taken out immediately. It was a foreign sensation and he didn’t like it one bit, but it would ultimately help. In one way or another.

This was just the first one, he had to get a second one in his right eye, but they had settled for only one this time as he still wanted to be able to see while his left eye recuperated. It was a long process, so having his eyesight completely taken from him was not ideal and was even dangerous. 

Mystik gently placed his glasses onto his face after she made him take a few sips of water, a pained hiss escaping from behind his teeth at the burn of swallowing.

When Mystik had said it was very painful, he wished he had listened more. It hurt like a bitch. 

His mother gently brushed the hair out of his face, praising him on how brave he was, and on how good he was going to look once the bandages came off. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Eli said you did so good.”

“If only Mila could see you now.”

If only Mila could see him now. He was a mess, not even himself anymore.

He wasn’t able to continue his line of thought as he was falling asleep again, his eye slowly dropping closed as he fell into unconsciousness once more. 

The room he woke up in a little later had come as a surprise to Tae, as he doesn’t remember ever falling asleep. He wasn’t even sure where he was, and why only one of his eyes was opening. He was all alone, and it was dark, the moonlight that spilled and flowed against the floor only just reaching the bed he was in. It was a light blue room, unfamiliar to the young man as his heart fluttered. He started to panic, as he couldn’t move, his limbs feeling like the jelly Mystik would make on specifically warm days during his childhood. The same red jelly that matched Mila’s hair when she had gotten it dyed.

He was all alone. And he was in pain. 

It was as if his jaw was locked, unable to move at all as he hyperventilated, his knuckles turning white as he fisted the sheets under him.

God, he wanted to go home.

Tae would have ripped the IV that was pinned into the back of his hand if he hadn’t been knocked out all at once, passing out from the panic of being in an unfamiliar place and all alone while he couldn’t move or talk.

The third time he woke, it was morning, and familiar long blond hair was the first thing he saw. 

With his head clearer than it had been the day before, he remembers what had happened to be in the current situation that he found himself, although his heart refused to slow down. 

Eli turned around when she realized her patient had awoken, her bright smile slowly diminishing as she saw the panic in his eye, as it flicked around the room as if he was looking for a way out. 

“Hey, shh, shh you are okay. Nothing is going to happen to you here, you are safe. Your mother will be back in a few, so try to relax, yea?” Eli tried smoothing her hand down his arm, but all it did was make him jumpy. Tae might have even started yelling if Mystik hadn’t chosen that very moment to walk through the doorway with a cup of coffee in her hand, her calm expression turning worried as she saw the look on Tae’s face. She hurried in, placing the cup down and grabbed his hand, hushing him and trying to calm him down with her words, too scared to hold him in fear that it would hurt him. 

It took a while to calm the young man down, but when he was finally able to breath, Eli said she had to change the bandages on him, as the ones he currently had on had spots of blood, and were just overall too dirty for her. She also said she didn’t want him getting an infection, as ‘it will hurt a lot more if it gets infected, hun’.

After a bit of a struggle, he sat on the edge of the bed, Eli hovering over him as she gently unwrapped the bandages that littered his face, the warm skin exposed to the cool air.

The burning sensation intensified when all the bandages except the one on his eye were taken off, and it sort of felt numb to him. He still couldn’t open his mouth to speak, it was as if his jaw had been stitched shut.

Eli handed him a hand mirror, which his shaky hand slowly took from her, hesitant on seeing his new complection. From what he could see from the look in Mystik’s eyes, it changed him enough where he definitely should have been less recognizable. He could see it in her teary eyes.

What Tae’s eyes met his own in the mirror, he took a sharp inhale that burned down the inside of his throat. Before him wasn’t Tae, but some sort of individual who was unrecognizable to him. There was redness where skin met metal. It was an angry red, blood ever so slowly seeping through some of the parts the artificial skin had been seared onto his actual skin. The metal flared under the led lights of the room, catching and glaring back at him in the mirror. Eli excused herself to give Tae some time with his new complection, stating that she would be back in a few to redress the wounds.

As soon as she was gone, Tae could feel the prickle of tears, his eye never leaving the stranger in the mirror. 

‘Who are you, and what have you done with Tae Joon Park?’

It was one thing to see it on paper, but with the actual thing on his face, it was like a nightmare. 

Was Tae Joon really gone? For good?

This time Mystik did hug him, telling him everything would be alright and that he made the right choice. That Mila would be proud of him moving on.

When in reality he hadn’t. _That morning_ still on replay whenever his eyelids were closed.

Who on earth is he? And where the hell did this stanger shove Tae Joon Park?

* * *

Eli hugged him softly in the doorway of her shop, going over everything he had to do to make sure nothing got infected, and how to take care of the metal pieces once it was healed enough for him to clean it. She told him the soap she wanted him to use to clean his face with, gave him a cream to put around the edges of the smaller metal pieces around his left eye, and to be careful when sleeping. She also made sure he remembered to redress his wounds after every time he showered.

“Also don’t wear your glasses after your eye is healed enough! The strength of it will agitate the tender wound! A-and don’t put in any contacts into that eye until you at least give it a month and a half to fully heal! Oh, and-“ Mystik put a gentle hand onto her shoulder, a smile on her lips while her other hand rested on the small of Tae’s back.

“I think he gets it Eli.” She then proceeded to pull the blond into a right hug, “thank you for everything you have done for my son. It means the absolute world to me.” Her voice sounded teary, and Eli buried her face in the crook of Mystik’s neck.

“It was the very least I could do for your son. He deserves justice. He’s a good kid.”

Tae was staying in Mystik’s son’s room for a few days. She said that she wanted to make sure that he was healing right and that he was taking care of himself. She also knew how he was and she was going to make sure that Tae ate everyday. 

To say that Tae crashed as soon as he hit the bed, was an understatement. He was on some heavy pain killers, so he was constantly drowsy, and not really hungry all the time, but definitely thirsty. He was woken a few hours later, Mystik saying she had made soup for him, and that ‘yes, Tae, you have to eat’. So he went downstairs and sat in the chair he always had without even thinking about it, but the glaring absence of a certain redhead next to him reminded him as to why he was there in the first place.

It was still difficult to eat. To do anything involving his jaw, really. Then there was the burn when he swallowed. He hadn’t really dared to speak since he had woken up, but Mystik knew him well enough to read his eyes. Maybe a little too well. 

The soup was plain chicken soup, with little noodles that he would be able to chew without any issues. It wasn’t too hot, and the smell was most definitely heavenly. Tae couldn’t remember the last time he had had any of Mystik’s soups, as they were all very delicious, all brought back memories from back then, during the summers of his childhood.

It was so nostalgic.

While Tae Joon stayed with his mother, he helped around the house, even if she was unhappy about it. She would whip his rear with the kitchen rag, trying to shoo him from helping in the kitchen, only for him to clean every surface in the living room. When she wouldn’t let him serve the food, he would set the table. If she refused to give him dish washing duty, he would stand next to her and dry. Mystik would look at him with an exasperated face, before it would crack and she would smile with a soft laugh. It was clear that she very much enjoyed his company. She was so alone with her born son away at college, barely calling and acknowledging his mother. If it weren’t for her calling him, he probably wouldn’t talk to her at all, which was messed up in Tae’s opinion. He had to appreciate what he had, and not take his mother for granted. 

He would whip the kid another day.

When Mystik finally retired to go to bed, she kissed his cheek softly and combed her fingers through his hair before she went upstairs. Tae stayed in the living room with the TV at its lowest volume, a bare murmur over his breathing. The lights flickered over his face, but he wasn’t actually watching. He just… stared at the television, but not actually seeing it. His mind was somewhere else. Somewhere far.

_‘It’s been 10 months, Park.’ _

_‘Can’t believe you have gotten over her.’_

_‘A pretty shitty brother if you ask me.’_

_‘Pathetic waste.’_

Tae squeezed his eye closed, a sharp pain shooting through his left eye as he put too much force on it. He ran a hand through his hair, knocking his glasses askew on his face as he forced a shaky, sharp exhale. 

_Don’t listen to them._

‘Useless.’

_ They can’t hurt you. _

‘Good for nothing asshole.’

_It’s all in your head._

Before his head could come up with another self deprecating thought, he shot up and off the couch, going upstairs quickly to hop into a steaming shower, in hopes of ridding his brain of such thoughts.

Turning on the shower at its hottest, Tae practically threw his clothes off without it catching on the bandages, which were taken off right after.

In the mirror, his skin was less puffy around the metal edges, but it still appeared red and agitated. It took a lot to not even scratch at it like he wanted to; his nails could catch and pull, which would result in a searing pain from the metal being separated from the skin, and they were supposed to be one. Catching the metal on anything during its healing process could cause a painful tear and would then result in a much longer healing timespan.

Looking in the mirror was still a bit painful to the raven, but he had slowly come to terms with the fact that he was who he was - or lack thereof. The only resemblance of the old Tae were the glasses his mother had gotten for him, but that was the only thing. Everything else was part of a stranger he wasn’t really well acquainted with. At least, not yet. If ever.

Trying to ignore the unfamiliar man in the mirror, Tae stepped under the scorching spray, hissing as it touched his back, undoubtedly turning it an angry red. He forced himself to stay under it, telling himself he’ll get used to the temperature if he didn’t move. It was painful, and made his back itch, but eventually he did get used to the extreme temperature. 

While he washed his hair, he was careful when tipping his head back, as to not get the bandage on his eye wet.

With the water falling through the drain, so did his previous thoughts. His mother wanted him to be more positive, to smile more, to be happy. He could smile for her, and try to be more positive, but he couldn't be happy. Not with the images that flash behind his eyelids and the voices that like to whisper in his ear when he is all alone, especially in the dark. 

‘You’re not in control anymore, Park.’

* * *

_  
Tae was having issues with the program he had on his computer screen, while Mila scrolled through her phone as she ate her noodles. She had wandered over to his desk when he started talking to himself, her eyes widening and a soft ‘woah’ slipping through her lips as the screen flashed._

_DECRYPTION_

_The raven’s heartbeat picked up when he realized what he had accidentally come across, his breath catching in his throat and eyes widening as he brushed his hair back, biting his lip as his eyes flicked across the screen to take it all in._

_“Do you know what we can do with this? This is our chance, we can use this and get out of here.” Mila gasped, her hands gripping the edge of his desk in a tight hold, the sharp edge digging into her palms, her nails scraping against the black wood._

_“No. Absolutely not.” Tae could only watched as Mila downloaded the program, his blood running cold as she inserted the USB into the port. “Do you know what they would do to us? We’ll be killed.” All Mila did was cross her arms under her chest, a frown etched onto her dark pink lips. Her bright green eyes expressed everything she was feeling: surprised, annoyed, sad, and angry._

_“They won't, Tae. Not if we use it responsibly.”_

_“And how will we be using it responsibly by rigging bets? They’ll find out, Mila. It’s too dangerous. We’ll find another way, just not this. I'm not willing to risk our lives for a bit more pocket change.” Park huffed, sitting back in his chair as Mila rolled her eyes at him, placing the USB on a box behind him. _

_“It’s not extra pocket change. We can make thousands with these bets, we can’t just pass that up-”_

_“Mila, I said no. Please.” He ran another hand through his long hair. He needed to cut it soon. “I promise we’ll find another way. This is just too dangerous, and it will result in one of our deaths, if not both of ours.” _

_When he got no reply, Tae turned around in his seat to look at his sister, to only notice the redhead wasn't even in the room. Pushing his chair back, he stood up and looked around. “Mila?” Taking a step forward, Tae felt that the floor under his shoes was wet. Looking down, he saw a dark substance, thick and slightly shiny in the light. _

_His heart was back in his throat._

_“Mila?” Taken a few more steps, he realised he couldn’t hear anything. Or maybe that was his heartbeat in his ears._

_“Mila!” He ran into the other room, looking every which way in hopes of catching a glance of his sister or her red hair, but he saw nothing. It was if she had never been there in the first place. _

__But she had been. __

_He could tell by the takeout box and chopsticks on the table, and the USB on top of the few boxes in his room. Her phone was also on the floor, coated in the sticky red substance that would splash each time he took a step._

_It was only then that he noticed his room walls were also splattered in the same red._

_Tae felt like he was going to throw up. _

_Running up to his computer to close the entire program down, it wouldn’t even budge when he waved the mouse around, and wouldn't react to the typing on his keyboard. _

_Shit, shit, shit!_

_“Come on. Come on!” Turn on, please. _

_The crash behind him made him jump, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he whipped around. Tae didn’t notice anything else out of place until he looked off to the side, to where his picture was supposed to be. It was on the floor instead, the frame cracked and glass littered around it. Bending down to pick it up, his fingers dipped into the red liquid to old yank them back after. _

__It was warm.__

_Dipping his fingers back in to grab the photo that fell out, he pulled it up by the top edge, watching as the red liquid slowly dripped off the picture. It was also drenched in the liquid. The metallic smell of it made Tae want to gag, his eyes watering at it._

_‘It's not blood. It’s not blood. It’s not blood.’ The mantra went on and on in his head as he inspected the photo, all red and soaked through, giving everyone in it a red tinge._

_He was distracted when he heard steps behind him, a familiar feeling washing over him, and he knew it was Mila. It had to be. So he got up slowly, placing the ruined photo back on the table before he turned around. Whatever he wanted to say caught in his throat, as his pupils dilated as he focused on what was standing before him. _

_“M...Mila?”_

_Her head hung, her hands and legs covered on the same red liquid that they were standing in, her jacket hanging off her shoulders and her hair a mess. She didn’t even appear to be breathing, as she stood stock still, keeping her head down low._

_Tae rose a hand and ever so slowly and hesitantly reached for her, but he never got to even touch her, as she raised her head slowly to look back at the raven._

_Blood covered her face completely - it had to be blood, he had to stop bullshitting himself - and her mouth was sewn shut, her eyeballs missing and cheeks sunken in._

_A scream was making itself up his throat, or maybe it was bile, but he was already moving back, startled. He fell onto his backside, his hands flying back to catch himself and splashing in the blood that pooled around them. He could feel the tears running down his face, a sob forcing itself from his chapped lips, his vision swimming and unable to rip his eyes away from his sister. His heart was beating so hard it was going to jump out from his chest, his rapid shallow breaths were going to choke him. Opening his mouth again, he knew he was going to scream._

_So he did. _

And scream he did.

Hands grabbed him by his shoulders, a voice yelling over his screams telling him it was alright, but he couldn’t see. He refused to open his eyes and see Mila standing there, all bloody and abused. It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real.

“It wasn’t real!” It was voiced out loud, a hand holding his head against a warm chest, the heart within beating too fast. It matched his breathing.

“It’s okay baby, breath. You are safe, it was just a dream.”

Tae wasn’t really aware of his surroundings; it’s not like he could see anyways. It was dark, and his eyes were blurry with tears he couldn’t blink away, his sight doused in red.

_ Like her. _

All Tae could do was sob. He hadn’t let himself cry for Mila for months. He told himself that he had to be stronger, to not let his emotions get to him, or else it would just crash, and let his mother down. She didn’t want to lose him too, and he was trying to hang on just for her, but sometimes he would slip up a little, and break. 

So he sobbed. And sobbed.

And sobbed.

It was all he could do at that point.

* * *

The first time he had watched the Games - the actual Games: the Apex Games - had been almost two years ago. The legends were getting a feel for the arena before the launch of the first season in a month, and a skirmish match had been recorded and aired. 

Mystik had really fallen for a douchebag named Mirage, and Mila really enjoyed the German hunter. He didn’t actually have a favorite, he just acknowledged them as the people he had built the drones for - well, not completely. It was to record them and their fighting, but it still involved them - so he tried not to get attached to them. Sooner or later one of them would keel over and die in the ring, but if asked for the least annoying, it would either be Gibraltar or Wraith. He saw the way they fought and interacted with the legends, and he decided that he wouldn’t mind being locked in a room with them for two hours, as Mila had kindly put it. Their fighting style were very contrasting to each other, but they didn’t seem to be there for the fame and glory. 

Bloodhound was alright, they were normal enough compared to the others, and were kind when the other Legends were teamed up with them. Tae tried to take a liking to him, since it was his sister’s favorite and she would always babble about them.

Then there was Caustic, which he really enjoyed. The way he was ruthless and went in for the kill violently somehow satisfied the raven. They were blunt and didn’t seem to be able to stand any of the other Legends, being crass and uninterested most of the time. Mila had told him he was a bit knocked in the head to like the former inmate, but Tae didn’t really care. 

Octane was a crackhead: put simply. He was a stim addict and was only in the games for the rush of adrenaline, not all really caring for a win as long as he got to run around and shoot at nothing in particular. 

Bangalore got on his nerves with the way she talked, and how she carried herself in general. Like as if she knew everything. She was relatively boring.

Lifeline was a good asset on the field, and didn’t rush into things. She was mostly on the sidelines, there for support and to attack when needed, healing and taking care of her teammates as a good medic does. 

The smiling robot was just fucking annoying.

And then there was Mirage, his mother’s favorite. Just by listening to him talk Tae wanted to sucker punch him in the nose as hard as he could, and see if the idiot could bleed out from the amount of blood loss coming from his nose. He was only there for the fame and the money, and stated many times he was only in the games for some of his own… game. He thought that by getting famous it would be easier to hook up. Overall, not a guy Tae would be able to stand for more than two minutes. Mystik would often laugh and tell him to lighten up, that the dude was funny and definitely had a charm to him. 

He disagreed.

There was only one thing different about this bloodsport than the others he had seen his mother watch, and it was the fact that they all had a purpose for being there. Whether it was stupid or not, was another thing. They all seemed to have general knowledge about guns and aiming, though there were definite idiots in the ring who wouldn’t pay attention. Mainly Octane and Mirage; their heads were so far up their asses they were blind at that point. And all the other lesser players working their way up to Legend status, but they were irrelevant.

Tae watched as Bloodhound did a finishing move on Lifeline, after she had gotten caught in the crossfire while healing her teammate. It had been pretty nasty takedown if you asked him. 

Overall, he didn’t understand the overhype of the Games, and decided it was stupid and not worth his time to watch. He just worked for the Syndicate, he didn’t have to watch their stupid show. He didn’t even get why people would join such ‘idiotic shit’, as he had put it earlier. 

Little did he know people would be watching him on the silver screen he hated so much.

* * *

The year had passed too fast for Tae. 

He still refused to believe a year had passed, as he stared at the gravestone as Mystik rested the flowers she had, standing back and sighing as she crossed her arms, her breath fogging up in the snow.

According to Mystik, she never got to see Mila’s face, only the closed coffin when they had directed her to the place they had taken her body to be laid to rest. Tae has been there too, only watching from the edge of the surrounding trees, knowing the possibility of being shot on sight was too high to join the small party. Small indeed. It only consisted of Mystik, her son, and a younger girl he didn’t really know of. Must have been Mila’s friend. 

Never had he approached the tombstone, until then, as he rested his own roses on the sleek granite, his heart sinking as his knuckle accidentally brushed up against it.

By then his wounds had healed up nicely, leaving behind a smooth face and and cool metal, his left eye all healed up, but his right in a bandage, having recently gotten the second implant in his remaining eye. Tae had also impulsively covered his pinky, and ring finger in the metal so his hands were bandages up under his gloves, the cold painfully cracking the edges of his wounds, the surrounding area dry and an angry red from irritation. Another impulsive surgery had been his nose, his justification to Mystik’s mortification being that people could still identify him with his nose shape. She was angry with him for a day or two, saying he was going too far changing who he was, that he was _erasing_ himself to become someone he wasn’t, and for what?

And for what, Tae didn’t have an answer to that yet. 

When she had gotten angry with him, he pointed out that all he did was make the top of his nose sharper, less rounder, making it look less wide, and it helped — looked better — on his face. At least, he thought so. The next day Mystik sat on the edge of the bed and told him that she was sad, watching her Little Tae wither away into a stranger. 

It hurt. He had already thought he was a ghost, a shell of who he used to be, but for his mother to tell him he was starting to look more and more like a stranger? It was like a knife had been stabbed into his heart and twisted a few times.

Standing there in the cold, seeing the name ‘Mila Alexander, a beloved daughter, sister and soulmate’ engraved into the slab, the range of her years at the very bottom hurt even more. She had been so young. It wasn’t fair. 

Mila had so many years ahead of her, why did it have to be cut short?

‘Because you weren’t there to protect her like you promised.’ The voice whispered in his ear just as the wind picked up, sending a shiver through his entire body. 

His empty left wrist never burned more.

* * *

“Tae, I know you. I know you have something cooking up in that head of yours.” Mystik had said from across the dining table, her curious eyes pleading for him to spill what had been turning over and over in his mind since the first anniversary of Mila’s death. Hoping his mother hadn’t noticed, he kept quiet, trying to continue on with life as if the thoughts whirling in his head weren't the plague itself. It was utterly stupid and idiotic, and it would get him killed. Tae wasn’t risking his life, his mother had already lost enough. His bad luck would follow him and get himself and anyone else involved killed; innocent lives didn’t have to pay for what he wanted to do, but wouldn’t dare do.

At least, not without a push, a go ahead. He knew that once he knew it was okay, he was going to go head in, and do whatever the hell he needed to to climb to the top. 

“Tae, please.” 

‘She knows.’

‘Just tell her, you can’t break her heart even more than it already is.’

‘Be a man and spit it out, brat.’

The voices talked over each other, calling him names and calling out his ‘fragile’ masculinity because he was too afraid to tell his mother. They blurred into a single voice that he couldn’t decipher, so the words didn’t really hit him. Only at night does he listen to them.

“I…” hanging his head, staring at the ramen his mother had made that night for dinner, his right hand clenched and unclenched, the pain shooting up his wrist keeping him in the moment as he exhaled heavily. “I want to join the Games.”

Mystik stayed quiet, not saying a single thing as Tae continued to stare at the soup, like as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the entire world to him. It started to worry him though, when she stayed silent, not uttering a single word. Looking up, he saw her searching his face, her expression indecipherable to him as she laid back in her seat, the wood creaking under her weight.

“Okay.” 

Out of all the things he expected Mystik to reply, it most definitely wasn’t that. He expected her to yell at him, to get angry at him, to do _something. Not_ for her to quietly accept his wishes, as absurd as they are.

“‘Okay’?” Repeating her in disbelief, he opened his lips to say something else before he was cut off.

“It was only a matter of time before you decided to take revenge for what they did to your sister, Tae. I have been waiting for you to tell me that you wanted to slit all their throats open.” Running a hand down her face, she sat up straighter, her hands landing softly on the table before she reached over to take one of Tae’s bandaged up hands in her own, her ocean green eyes looking into his own honey colored ones. “If you were expecting me to stop you, I’m sorry to disappoint. You know I always wanted you to follow your dreams, and I understand how dangerous this could be — believe me, I do! — but I know that look, Tae. That look that you get when you decided on something, and nothing no matter what, will make you change your mind.

“You are so smart and kind, and I know Mila meant so much to you. I also know that you can do whatever you put your mind to. So instead of trying to deter you and hold you back from your dreams, I want to be there for you when you have to fall back, or need someone to talk to. I want you to have someone to confide in. I’m never leaving you alone again. I failed the first time, and I won’t fail again.”

The hand gripping his tightened, a second covering the first, enveloping him in warmth. Bowing his head once more, the breath that escaped his lips shook his body, tears pricking the edges of his eyes, and if Mystik noticed one of them falling onto his glasses and sliding down she said nothing. She just gripped his hand harder, and made sure he knew how loved he was, and that he had her unconditional support, because she _believed_ in him.

“I know what it’s like to lose a soulmate. Even if your bond was familial and not romantic, there was still a strong string of love that never snapped, even when she was laid to rest. You won’t ever stop loving her, and she would have never stopped loving you.”

“She wanted you to be happy.”

They had eaten the rest of their dinner in silence, but it was okay because Tae’s head was filled to the brim, his thoughts unable to leave him alone. 

Mystik brought him over to the sofa so they could sit next to each other, her hand coming up to brush his hair away. They sat in silence for a bit, Tae trying and somewhat failing at trying to get his thoughts in chronological order, or at least in a way that wouldn’t make him stumble over his every other word. What he was going to tell Mystik next was obvious, but that didn’t make it any easier. Especially for him.

“We have to erase Tae Joon.” Making eye contact with his mother, he could see the sad expression, but she didn’t stop him from continuing. “For all the public knows, he could be dead. To the Syndicate, he is a target that must be neutralized at any cost. 

“Appearance wise, Tae doesn’t exist, but identity wise, he lives on.” His head hurt from how much he was thinking, the back of his eyes burning as he took off his glasses. “Tae Joon has to die, and someone has to take his place.” 

“You’re giving up your identity?” Mystik asked immediately after, her eyes searching.

“I have to.” He was breathless when he said it, the words getting stuck in his throat on the way up. “I’ll be killed instantly if I stay as who I am. Hey, but it’s okay mama, we can do this, you said yourself you’ll be there for me, so I need your help in erasing Tae.” Reaching up to wipe a tear from his mother’s face, he got closer, holding her other hand in his right. 

“Tae Joon was never in this house after the accident, alright? Tae also never saw the cosmetic surgeon Elanoir Kim for a reconstruction procedure. Park never visited the graveyard or gave you money for staying for a few nights. In this house, Tae Joon Park is dead, you hear me?” At this point, his mother was softly sobbing, nodding gently at his words as she tried to dry her tears.

“In this house, you are to never say my name again, okay? If you absolutely need to reference me in any conversation, you can call me…” frantically looking around the room, his eyes glancing at the pictures up on the walls and the few Korean posters in the corner, the magnets and advertisements on the fridge, and the names of the appliances around in the kitchen. “...Hyeon…” flickering past the rest of the room, the desk, and floors to catch something, _ anything _, he caught the last bit of a muted advertisement on tv, “Kim.” 

His mother couldn’t even talk at that point, as she sobbed and sobbed, holding tightly onto Ta- no, Kim’s hand, as if she would lose him if she let go.

And just like that, Tae Joon Park was laid to rest with his sister.

* * *

Kim had done his… homework. He memorized the pasts of the Legends currently playing.

Alexander Nox was another legend who had thrown away his identity to escape to a new life, but with enough digging around, he found out his name, age, home planet, and his backstory. 

Natalie Paquette was the youngest of them all, and was a main player in why the games even run, as she was the engineer who created the ring. A kind soul who had no place in the ring, but still played to ‘make her papa proud’.

Renee Blasey escaped from a Detention Facility that ran tests on her, heard voices in her head and claimed they helped her escape the torture. She went into the games to find a new life outside of what she had already known, and was good at what she did.

All the legends were a cluster of random delinquents who searched for something, be it fame or a passage out of their life, and he himself was about to join in search of revenge.

Mystik had dedicated herself to making him an outfit, tell him that if her son was going to play on television, she at least wanted him looking ‘badass’. She had tears in her eyes when she told him this, and followed it with a big hug where she sniffled, grounding herself to the reality of what their life had come to.

For days and nights, Crypto paced the room in his little apartment, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, fingers raking through his hair and nails bitten. A few holes may have popped up in his wall over the course of the past month, his anger and frustration getting the best of him as he sat at the desk, trying to figure out a way to get onto King’s Canyon without getting caught, and he had to do it soon, before season two finished. He needed the time to try and get into the system, to buy it and watch the island be engulfed in flames. 

_But how?_

He first needed a distraction to get his credentials in the system without the Syndicate finding out, and to do that needed something big, and it had to come before the fire. 

The table he had moved into his flat held a large map of the arena, red marker tracks covering the surface, and he may have accidentally knocked a cup of coffee on the right corner during one of his all nighter sessions. 

His laptop sat in the other corner of the room, with software he had been developing to help crack the firewalls in the Syndicates code, and as fast as he was going, it was still too slow. Season two would be coming to an end soon, and he needed to be in and out in that time, and who knew how long it would take him to get into the system once he was on the island. 

In between his anxiety attacks and working sessions, he was… trying to gain muscle mass. He was too lanky — in his opinion — to make it anywhere in the ring, and with the time he has to spend in King’s Canyon, he could get detected and might need to defend himself. Focused on his biceps and triceps, his arms where constantly sore, his core also screaming at him to ‘sit the fuck back down’ when he would get out of bed or get up from a long session staring at his computer, due to his core exercises. On Thursdays his legs made him want to cry as they protested from the workouts he would do the night before, his knees creaking going up and down the stairs to his flat. Eventually, through the past few weeks, a punching bag had made itself into the opposite corner of where his laptop was homed. By then, his hands were mostly healed, so he would spend some of his days going at it when he found himself waiting for something to decrypt itself on his desktop, or waiting for the lunch he was cooking to finish. 

The five weeks Kim had spent away locked in his flat working out the details to his break in, Mystik worked away at his ‘outfit’ for the ring. Their meetup consisted of Mystik gushing over him, gripping his shoulders and squeezing his face, telling him just how proud she was of him and his growth, and just how amazing of a legend he would be, and to ‘be careful, you might replace Mirage as my number one’.

The first big breakthrough was when Kim found a way into the arena. He found out where and how the food was being transported in and out of the ring, and got the names of the people who did the transporting. He decided that he would bribe one of the workers to pretend he never saw or heard anything. Once in, he could see if he could crack away at the system enough to be able to get on and off the island without being detected. That part wasn’t going to be easy, but he knew he could find a way, he always did. The next thing he figured out was the room that would be play a key role in hacking into the core system itself. It was a little nook in the east side of the map, an abandoned lab with underground rooms with access to the rest of the waypoints on the island. It was called Singh Labs, and it was a perfect place to conduct most of the ‘hacking’. The only issue was that the Legends could access it in game, and he could easily get spotted if he wasn’t careful enough.

Bringing up what he had learned, Mystik sat back in her chair, a hand on her chin as she hummed, the jacket she had made for him on her lap, a needle and thread in her other.

“Why not do what you do best, and make a drone? Program it to suit what you need it to do, and maneuver it with that clever little cube you made? You got those optical implants, so why not put them to use and link them up to the cube, and use it with the drone?” As Kim sipped his coffee, he hummed softly, his eyes staring at a photo his mother had put up of her and the three kids, big smiles on their faces. Mystik was right, linking himself up with a special equipment he could use in and out of the ring would be very helpful, and may even be vital. A smirk formed on his lips as he continued to think, thinking about how he would use the same design Mila had made for the Syndicates use. They couldn't track it back to Tae and Mila, as it was a design out to the public, and for all they knew it could be a mock up and not an actual thing. The ‘real deal’. All he would have to do is repurpose the design for what he needed, with a sturdier case if he planned on whacking people with it.

Mystik had taken it upon herself to also study the map to King’s Canyon, saying she needed to know it like the back of her hand if her son was to be playing in it. He told her it would end up in flames — most likely — so there was no reason to have it. She wouldn’t listen to him, and had it hanging up on her wall on the far side of the couches.

Staring at it now, the gears in the raven's head slowly turned, a realization coming to him as he looked at it from his seat.

The tower.

If the Repulsor Tower came down… it would create a big enough distraction to hack the mainframe, and ultimately get his name in the system. Screw the qualifiers, he was going to force his way in. The disruption of the games could last weeks, and it would give Crypto enough time to get his credentials in place and become a legend, resulting him in getting closer to the Syndicate. It was perfect.

He left right after, telling his worried mother that he would share what he had discovered when he perfected his plan. All but running back to his flat, he threw himself back onto his desktop and got to work on getting this drone created, sending a quick thank you to his sister for her brilliant design. He knew it would work. It had to. He couldn’t fail again. 

He refused to fail again.

This was his redemption arch, and he wasn’t willing to lose the opportunity.

* * *

Standing in the mirror, Kim gazed at his outfit that his mother had made for him. The white and green jacket was warm enough for the cool nights on the Canyon, but not too warm where he would be sweating — at least, not unless he is running or in battle. The black right sleeved shirt accentuated all the muscles he had been able to gain throughout the past month and a half to two months. He was thinner overall, his high cheekbones poking through after his diet and workouts, his waist trimmer and shoulders filled out, and his thighs still aching from the constant running up and down the park’s bleachers the night before. The green vest gave off the retro feel Mystik liked a lot, giving his outfit a little charm to it. The black jeans were generic, except with grey details his mother had stitched on, the white strip on the sides of his pants with crossing strings an extra little detail she had enjoyed doing. She said it was to ‘help him compete with the charming pretty boy Mirage was’. The only thing he was going to be doing to that idiot was smashing his face in with his elbow. The small pouches strapped around his thighs was for the amo, something his mother had recreated from looking at screencaps in the games. The only thing he added were the chords running across his chest, which he had thrown together at the last minute. It was connected to the back of his parka, where the drone he made sat in a little sturdy pouch Mystik had made for it, and it acted as a ‘to-go’ charging dock, as the matches could last up to a whooping 28 hours, and if he was going to be using his drone constantly during a match, it needed somewhere to charge in the meantime.

After knocking on the door, Mystik slipped inside, and looked at him through the mirror, a hand going up to her lips as her eyes watered. She had around two months to accept the fact that her son was going away, with a high chance of getting murdered, and finally seeing him in his Game Outfit she had made for him, it was like she was being stabbed through the heart. Every mother goes through it: letting their children go off into the universe to follow their dreams. Ta- Hyeon was old enough, more than old enough, and it was time he made a name for himself in the world, and he was going to be unforgettable. Kim’s time had just come later than normal, but he was doing it, and if it made him happy, she was going to support him no matter what. 

Losing his soulmate had torn him up into little pieces. His little sister had meant everything to him, so seeing him move on little by little, it was a blessing Kim thought he was ready enough to leave his home planet, even if it was to go after a whole organization for revenge. Moving closer to him, she rubbed her hand up and down the expanse of his back before she stepped directly behind him, slinging a few necklaces over his head so they rested on his clavicle. A few were hers, some she got for her son’s outfit, and one belonged to Mila herself. Kim had immediately noticed that one.

“She would have wanted you to have it.” Reassuring him, they hugged. It was hard, for the both of them. Kim was leaving, and neither of them knew when he was coming back, or if he would. They were betting on his future, and all they could see before them was a heavy haze of fog. 

In reality, Kim was giving up his family as well. It wasn’t just his identity that he was leaving behind. They would still keep in touch, but it would be through coded messages and letters that had to be burned once read, so they couldn’t be traced back to him.

“What was the alias you decided on?” Stepping back from the hug, Mystik fixed his hair and smoothed out any wrinkles in his clothes.

That had taken almost as long as coming up with his plan. He didn’t want anything cheesy, and wanted something Mila would have chosen for him. At first he thought of Crypter, but it sounded weird, even if it went perfectly with him, as he was making it extremely hard to be detected by the Syndicate. Decryption also passed his mind, but it made him think back to the day Mila went missing, so it was immediately a no. He actually almost settled on Cryptogram, but the ‘gram’ was a stupid add on, and he only really wanted the Crypto part. He was concealed in the lie he built up, a secret to the rest of the world, so it fit perfectly. 

“Crypto.” 

Standing taller and rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, he huffed at himself in the mirror.

“I am Crypto, the Surveillance Expert Legend of the Apex Games.”

* * *

The morning Crypto landed into the arena, it was rainy, and everything was off, the games not scheduled until nine that morning, so he had a few good six hours to get a head start. As it was the first day, all Crypto brought was himself and his drone, which was currently flying overhead as he ran across the canyon, trying to get to the large building looming over the Containment. Everything was locked, even the doors and loot boxes in the arena, but that wasn’t much of an issue for Crypto as he easily got through the door without making a single sound. The only noise around him was the raindrops hitting the already wet floor, and the dripping of a leak in the roof of the room he was currently in. He wore a sweatshirt under his coat that day, so he pulled the hood off and wiped the drops of water that had managed to land on his face as he ran across the ring. His boots had made a track as he went deeper into the building towards the command room, his hand wrapped around a switchblade he bought recently. The moonlight glinted on its edge as he silently made his way across the first room, his footsteps careful and calculated, his eyes flitting around to make sure no one was going to jump out at him and attack. 

Making it to the control room in one piece, he closed the door behind him and locked it, his drone facing the door just in case if someone did manage to catch sight and followed him in. His hand softly ran across the controls, a small smile playing on his lips as he eyed the many buttons that he could press and play with. 

Pulling out a custom USB with everything he needed for the day, his eyes never losing the glint as he got to work.

He had two weeks exactly to crack the code and get into the mainframe, and make the whole island a bloody dance floor.

* * *

In his short time in the arena trying and failing to get into the system, he would sometimes take breaks to look out the window and down below to the games. So far he had seen Pathfinder smash someone’s head with a grapple, Bangalore knock someone’s brains around with the butt of her semi-automatic gun, and Octane slam a syringe into another person's neck violently while cackling. That last one made him cringe and run a hand down his neck unconsciously, stepping away from the window and turning back to his laptop, that was sitting on the floor with a cord connected to the control system, taking its time to decrypt something he transferred onto his laptop. 

It was hot, making Crypto take off his jacket and fold it over a chair, but it was at the ready if he had to flee. His drone was out and about wandering around the room, making sure to capture any movement that should be alarming to him. He tapped his fingers against the control center, his eyes flitting over the screen, watching the ninety-five percent slowly move to ninety-six percent, taking all the time in the world to load. It had only been four days, and Crypto was already getting frustrated with the process. It really shouldn’t be that hard to hack into the mainframe and extract data on the Repulsor Tower, in which he could then connect his laptop to it with a USB filled with content he would make specifically to watch the damned thing fall and burn. But he was working with the Syndicate, so he should know just how careful they were with all their damned crap, putting up firewall over firewall that was taking too much time to get around, because if he completely broke it, they most definitely get notified and he would get detected. 

It was weird not being in contact with Mystik. Yes, he had gone months without seeing her after the incident, but that was different. He was on a different planet, miles and miles away from home, and he couldn’t just simply run to her house with his tail between his legs. Giving up his identity forced him to give up his only family, but it was temporary, until he could worm his way into Games, and slowly into the Syndicate, and slit however many throats that he needed to to get his job done. If he was going to be labeled a murderer, he would rather earn his title than for it to be delivered on a silver platter. 

A single beep caught his attention, his eyes flitting back to the screen that now read one-hundred percent. Rolling his head around and cracking his knuckles, he got to work, his eyes trained on the screen before him, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

The next time he looked back up from the screen, the sky was going dark, signifying he had been working for a little over four hours nonstop, and it was time to go back to the little place he was staying at for the time being. 

Staring at a screen all day took a tax on him, and he knocked out the moment he hit the pillow.

It went on and on like that, for a few days. Working hard, thinking he was finally going to make a breakthrough, only to be rejected. 

When he finally made his way to Singh Lab, it had been the day right after he cracked the system enough to make the announcer of the games glitch, the banners going dark from how hard he hit the mainframe. He had to be careful now, as the Syndicate will be on high alert after his little stunt, and while they were distracted, he’ll… upload a little friend he made for the mainframe, and extract the data he needed and do a little vanishing act. So that’s exactly what he set out to do. Hunched over the control panel in the little room he was situated in, his fingers flew over the keyboard, the games having started about thirty minutes ago. 

He was paranoid, as the lab he was in was a frequented area in the games, and many gun fights broke out within those very walls, so he would look over his back multiple times every five minutes. At least, he had. He was too busy and concentrated on what was on his laptop when one of the doors was opened, footsteps running in quickly away from enemy squads. His drone alerted him a little too late, the peeping of it bouncing around in his head, a warning sign flashing in front of his eyes from the optical units. Shooting a look over his shoulder, he caught sight of Pathfinder, who was right about rounding the corner. A surge of frustration coursed through him, as he had to press a few keys frantically to cancel the program entirely and unhooked his laptop, bolting out of the room with his drone following quickly behind him. 

_ Motherfucker. _

* * *

Crypto stood on a grassy ledge overlooking King’s Canyon, his laptop open on his left forearm, a USB resting in his other hand that was in his pocket. The wind blew through his hair, the breeze pleasant as the sun beat down on him. 

The current games had been going on for a few hours, so Crypto had busied himself in watching the last official games that would ever be played on Solace. The thought brought a slight smile onto lips, as he drummed his fingers on the USB, his eyes flitting over the arena that would hopefully be a chaos when he finally made a light show of the Repulsor Tower.

He could distantly see a no-name legend snipe another no-name legend in the head, before they themselves got knocked over the head hard enough they passed out. It wasn't a surprise that the much lesser known players of the Apex Games were falling before the Legends in their attempt to climb the ranks and become a Legend themselves. 

The announcer sounded overhead, declaring the closing of the ring in a minute, and that was when Crypto decided he had seen enough, and he couldn’t put it off any longer. He had been working for this for almost two weeks, the second season was coming to a close in a few days, so he couldn’t draw this out, as much as he would love to savour this moment. This would be a big hit to the Syndicate, it would shake them up a bit and throw them off their game — quite literally. 

Thumbing the thin slot in his pocket, he pulled it out into the air and examined it, a smile most definitely on his face now.

_ This is for Mila. _

Sliding it into the side of his computer, a software popped up and he immediately synced with the tower. A security measure showed on his screen, and after typing in the password, a smaller screen flashed. A simple click and a few presses of his keys would do the trick, and no more King’s Canyon. Licking his lips, Crypto did so, his eyes watching the Repulsor Tower intently, only slightly aware of Wattson and Octane at the base of the tower. 

‘Oh well. The worst that could happen is their squad gets eliminated and they wake up back on the dropship.’

Just as they landed, the Tower seized, making a few noises and the electricity popped before it snapped in half from the power. The large thing grunted as the top half fell to the floor, making a mess of dirt and water, a big cloud of dirt floating. Just slightly out of it laid Octane, with Wattson reviving him with her electricity. The addict just jumped right back up, before their entire squad took a good look at the mess.

Crypto didn’t stay any longer to enjoy the show unfolding, he turned and bolted off around the ring to get back to the original control tower he had worked in the first few days. The ring had been turned off after the Repulsor Tower fell, the games off after the… mess he left behind. 

With the Containment in sight, he ran faster, trying to avoid any players that had been left in the ring. Running up the metal stairs, his breath was coming fast, his eyes zeroed in on the working space that would get him into the games.

This had to be done fast. An ‘in-and-out’ kind of thing. He had to be gone and off the arena in the next fifteen minutes before a swipe was made. The moment the Syndicate shut down their mainframe, it would be the end of him, so he had to be faster than them. Practically running into the control center, he slammed his laptop down and had it hooked in seconds, easily getting into the cracks he had left behind in the Syndicate’s firewalls to get back into the mainframe. His file was done and at the ready, so all he had to do was load it and let the magic happen, but who knew how long that would take. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he was gasping for air as he typed on his keyboard, his eyes burning from refusing to blink in case he messed up. There was no room for mistakes. 

The loading screen popped up and his fingers drummed on the table before him, his hands shaking and his legs made of jelly, nervous and incredibly afraid that he would be found before he could get his credentials in. 

He almost screamed when the loading seemed to freeze on ninety-nine percent. _ Almost._

His fingers were in his hair, pulling. His teeth bit down harshly on his lip to keep himself from cursing out, his leg begging to bounce as he glared at the screen, as if that would help.

The beep alerting him that the action had been completed and saved had him hunching his shoulders, his hands grasping at the edge of the control center as his breath came to him unevenly and his heart practically beat itself out of his chest. The smile that cracked out onto his face was big, and made his cheeks hurt. 

He’s in.

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, I’m not very proud of this, as crazy as that must sound, since I did pour a lot of work and hours into this. I just hope it’s satisfactory and the incoming angst will complete it. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you have the time, it truly makes my day! But don’t feel pressured to!!!
> 
> See you guys,,, hopefully before Thanksgiving??? With another,,, 10k-20k words??? I don’t know, I might need a break, my squad complains every night I don’t go on to play ranked with them. I’ll try my very best to get the second half out very very soon though!!!
> 
> Have a great day/night!!! <3
> 
> See a grammar mistake? Notify me!


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